Improbable Expectations
by ThunderUmbra
Summary: Praxis fantasizes about what Deimos is truly like.


It was Cain's life mission to besmirch anything I wanted for myself.

I was quite confident of this, anyone I feel for had nasty habit of being crushed under Cains domineering attitude. I had to ask myself numerous occasions if I was actively seeking the mans scraps on some unconscious level.

I had always been enamoured with the way navigators looked. They were all very elegant looking with bright blonde locks, they were all so clever and civilized, many Fighters were jealous of these traits the special treatment they received from the world. But not me, ever since I was a child I was always fascinated by Navigators. All of my crushes since boyhood were always reserved for navigators, until this one.

It was funny, Deimos was invisible to me for many years. I had heard his code name in role-call but never really placed a name with a face. The boy lacked charisma in every sense of the word.

It was only in sneering at Cain at every given opportunity I got that I actually start to notice his little shadow.

On one level he was fascinating, he was lithe, silent, he was very unfitting for your traditional Fighter. But on the other level he was infuriating as anyone watching would quickly realize this boy was completely infatuated with Cain. When Cain approached him his ears became red, his face flushed. He seemed to be putting a large amount of effort to hide his affections and fidgeting but it was still frighteningly transparent.

I found myself wondering if Cain was sleeping with Deimos as well. I came to the conclusion that Cain was leading the boy on for the hell of it. I had no proof of this and it came from the same mind that was quick to cast doubts that Cain was fucking Abel as well. -I'd rather not wonder what was going on there. It hurt me but the scar that marred Abels lips signified he did indeed belong to Cain. I could only hope he was forced. Than the thought that I was hoping for rape made me wonder about my own moral integrity.

Deimos stood at Cains side neat black hair and unscared lips. -why was the boy not marked?

I wondered this many times as I watched Deimos approached Cain. It was no secret that homsexual affairs were not foreign ideas among Starfighters and were pretty rampant if not regular occurrences on board. A sexually submissive Fighter. Technically they had to have existed in large quantities a many fighters wanted nothing to do with Navigators besides flying Starfighters.

Even if Deimos was unmarked and Abel was marked I couldn't help but feel that Deimos was dirtier somehow. I think it was the dirtiness that stirred my attention and made him arousing to me. I couldn't stand that another fighter wanted Cain of all people. But of course my mind couldn't stop at him merely wanting Cain, I also had to imagine him wanting to be fucked by Cain- and very quickly thoughts about Deimos started to rival my fantasies of Abel.

They had very similar set ups to my fantasies of Abel -essentially I use my cock to fuck the loyalty out of them and impregnate a firm desire and admiration for myself. I worked myself over the edge wondering what Deimos would feel like from the inside. How tight? How warm? I imagined he want to sit on top of me and impale himself.

I pictured that he would frantically do most of the work- he was always hungry and desperate for the contact. I always painted him more unhinged during sex than I did when I imagined myself with Able.

I assumed at first when I thrusted my hips upward he would quickly grind his hips against mine: I had never heard so much as a sigh out of the boy, he never spoke to Cain, I had heard rumors he was mute.

At first I would imagine many innocent squeaks and noises being held firmly in the back of his throat as he rapidly slammed his hips down only once in awhile slowing to gyrate against me. Soon sweat was covering his pale skin.

Only when he started to jack himself off with more soft moans emerge. He would start to leak from the tip closing in on his orgasm by now he'd be fatigued physically but the gushing fountains of repressed sexual frustration from Cain motivated him to frantically keep moving against me.

But then like magic I could uncork his repression by flipping him onto his back and lifting his hips up high to gain access now driving into him myself.

Back in my bed this was always the point to which my jerks with my hand would become frantic and Deimos's rapidly depleting sanity reflected that greatly. I choice a croaky voice I thought was suiting to his unscarred lips and then imaged him spewing out nonsense as I fucked him. He was shouting my real name, he was arching his back and begging for me to fuck him harder. He was muttering out half formed thoughts about how my cock was big and fat -about how I filled him perfectly. But mostly I just imaged he'd cry, "Fuck me!" a lot. For some reason I had a strong hunch he'd just wail, "Fuck me, FUCK ME!" over and over again with his hoarse dying voice like he was losing his mind.

And when I knew I was going to cum and I couldn't fight it any longer, I'd take a moment to shallow my thrusts and aim for the prostate. Than he'd announce his orgasm with gasping cries and would expel his load onto our stomachs. We'd lay there for awhile, he'd smile meekly at me.

My fantasies never got further than that.

But back in the real world, the next time I was in the mess hall eating my breakfast I felt my ears grow hot when I saw him pass by. Cain sat with his back to my table and Deimos sat across from him. In the black latex of his suit I could examine his skinny- but still alluring form. It was the first time I got to really look at his face. I noticed how he kept his hair longer on one side. I was fascinated by the soft touch he used when handling his silverware. His nose wasn't gaunt like mine or Cain's his was more pointed and up flicked. He had thin lips and he kept them pressed together tightly, even when he ate his mouth remained small.

I realized I spent most of the morning thinking about him and next to nothing thinking about Abel, and as I stared I noticed his eyes wander towards me. He had the brightest pair of eyes I had ever seen on a Fighter, it melted my heart into my stomach. I immediately felt embarrassed once his gaze turned to me and lowered my eyes. He seemed to misconstrued the exchange as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Cain turned around, "You wanna fight Praxis?" he taunted. He remained quiet to avoid conflict in front of the superior officers seated mer tables away.

The next few days became an endless cycle of frantic masterbation and borderline stalking. All of which was centered around Deimos, apparently my admiration for my beautiful blonde life saver was taking second fiddle to my obsession with a small, mute Fighter.

Perhaps one day, rather than grab his ass in the elevator like some punk, I could ask him out like a proper gentlemen. Maybe he would appreciate the gesture. Something tells me he doesn't get touched enough by good men.


End file.
